My husband and I are overprotective. We rarely leave our children. But when my mom moved in with us earlier this year, things began to change. My mom is wonderful with the kids and we feel very safe with her watching them. I began to be able to run out to the store on my own occasionally, or go to the gym, or meet a friend for a quick cup of coffee.

It felt like liberation to me. But Diego was not as thrilled. He began to perform what we named, “The Mommy Stakeout.” This involved him sitting in front of the door where he believed I might emerge and holding a full-scale sit-in. Lower lip puckered out, feet planted on the floor, arms crossed—there was no mistaking Diego's feelings about the situation.

He would often sit there for 30 minutes or more, pouting furiously and demanding milk from the closed door. My older son Nino and my mom tried hard to appease him. They offered hugs and kisses, baby oranges and tiny marshmallows. They offered to play games or even watch his favorite purple dinosaur Barney. But nothing helped. He was convinced that if he waited long enough, I would miraculously appear and everything would be restored to normal in his universe again.

It's hard to know what is going on inside the minds and hearts of toddlers. Do times like these permanently scar them? Or do they fade away into the hazy era of pre-speech that is not recorded in direct memories? Is it wrong to want to take time for yourself, even if it causes your toddler emotional distress? Or is it actually good for them to develop some independence and trust for caregivers other than their own parents? How do we judge as parents where to draw the line on how much to give and how much to retain for ourselves?

These are the questions that constantly plague me as a mother. My husband and I have made a lot of parenting choices that could be classified in the ‘attachment parenting' genre. This style of parenting appeals to us. But does that mean it is right? Not necessarily. I never want to be the person that believes I have all the answers. Especially with something as slippery and imprecise as motherhood.

I love being close to my boys, but it is hard to find time for myself. And is it even legitimate for me to want such time? I don't know. But I do know that the mommy stakeout breaks my heart. And when I finally walk through that door and both my boys come dashing toward me like I've been gone for one hundred years of solitude, I feel sad that I've disappointed them. But at the same time, I feel grateful for the time, invigorated from the moments I've spent alone just being me.